Uncle Max eBook

I had broken off abruptly, for I was alarmed at the
effect of my words. The young painter’s
face had become ashen pale, and the brush had fallen
out of his shaking hand. The next moment a fierce,
angry light had come to his eyes.

‘What do you mean? who are you?’ he demanded,
in a trembling voice, but even at the moment’s
agitation I noticed he spoke with the refined intonation
of a gentleman. ’I know nothing of what
you say: you must take me for another man.
I am Jack Poynter.’

‘Oh, Mr. Hamilton,’ I implored, stretching
out my hands across the balcony, ’do not treat
me as an enemy. I am a friend, who only means
well. For Gladys’s sake listen to me a moment.’

‘I will hear nothing!’ he stammered angrily.
’I will not be hindered in my work any longer.
Excuse me if I am rude to a lady, but you take me for
another man.’ And before I could say another
word he had stepped through the open window.

I could have wrung my hands in despair. He had
denied his own identity at the very moment when his
paleness and terror had proved it to me without doubt.
‘You take me for another man,’ he had said;
and yet I could have sworn in a court of justice that
he was Eric Hamilton; not only his face, but his voice;
his manner, told me he was Gladys’s brother.

But he should not elude me like this, and I hurried
downstairs, determined to find my way into the empty
house and confront him again. The fastenings
of the hall door gave me a little difficulty.
I was afraid Clayton would hear me, but I found myself
outside at last, and in another minute I was in the
deserted drawing-room.

Alas! Eric was not there: only his paint-pot
and brush lay on the balcony outside. Surely
he could not have escaped me in these few minutes;
he must be in one of the other rooms. At the
top of the stairs I encountered a young workman, and
began questioning him at once.

‘Well, this is a queer start,’ he observed,
in some perplexity. ’I saw Jack only this
moment: he wanted his jacket, for he said he had
a summons somewhere. I noticed he was palish,
and seemed all of a shake, but he did not answer when
I called out to him.’

‘Do you mean he has gone?’ I asked, feeling
ready to cry with disappointment.

’Yes, he has gone right enough; but he’ll
be back presently, by the time the governor comes
round. I wonder what’s up with Jack; he
looked mighty queer, as though the peelers were after
him; in an awful funk, I should say.’

‘Will you do me a favour, my man?’ and
as I spoke a shining half-crown changed hands rather
quietly. ’I want to speak to your friend
Jack Poynter very particularly, but I am quite sure
that he wishes to avoid me. If he comes back,
will you write a word on a slip of paper and throw
it on to the balcony of 64?—­Just the words
“At work now” will do, or any direction
that will find him. I am very much in earnest
over this.’

The man looked at me and then at the half-crown.
He had a good-humoured, stupid-looking face, but was
young enough to like an unusual job.